


Choose Your Own Queen Adventure

by Yitzock



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Cats, Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Ending, Dancing, Drinking, Early Queen (Band), F/M, Fireworks, Friendship, Gen, I named you as the reader but it's still more reader insert than OC, Male-Female Friendship, Party, Photographs, Photography, Pool, Pool & Billiards, Singing, Snacks & Snack Food, Stargazing, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 17,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yitzock/pseuds/Yitzock
Summary: Your friend knows one of Queen's roadies and takes you to the band's latest party. She quickly leaves you on your own to explore the house and meet new people. How will the night go? It's up to you.
Relationships: Brian May & Reader, Freddie Mercury & Reader, John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, John Deacon & Reader, Roger Taylor (Queen)/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 31
Collections: Interactive Fiction/Actual ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Choose Your Own Queen Adventure! Similarly to a Chose Your Own Adventure book, there are instructions at the end of each chapter. Read these carefully to correctly select the next chapter in the path you would like to take. While there are four initial choices in the first chapter, there are more than four endings and more than just one possible Queen boy you can meet in each path. Sometimes choices to decline an activity will lead you to meeting someone else, sometimes they will lead you to a "bad" ending. Please leave comments on the endings you get, whether you're a guest or someone with an AO3 account! I'd love to read your reactions to the different parts. It's taken me about 11 months to complete this fic, working on it off and on when I wasn't busy finishing my Master's, so I hope you will enjoy it! I had lots of fun writing it. There are a total of 15 endings.

You feel a little nervous as you walk up the steps of the house. Parties were never your thing, but a friend of yours knows a roadie who works for a band called Queen and got both of you invited. You didn’t have anything in particular planned for that night, so you put on your best clothes and joined her.

You hang around with your friend for a while and she introduces you to some roadies and some other acquaintances of hers at the party. You listen to their small talk and try to contribute, but you just can’t let yourself relax and enjoy it as they pass through the room and move from person to person.

Eventually, she leaves you alone to fend for yourself. You don’t remember the names of any of the people she introduced you to earlier on, and you didn’t feel any particular interest in talking to them again. You look around the room full of people and try to decide what to do next, whether to stay put – you notice a free spot to sit on the sofa – or wander around somewhere else in the house.

**To go to the kitchen for a drink, go to Chapter 2.**

**To explore the rest of the house, go to Chapter 3.**

**To take the empty seat on the sofa, go to Chapter 4.**

**To go outside for some air, go to Chapter 5.**


	2. Chapter 2

You haven’t had a drink all night, since you were clinging to your friend, so you decide to venture into the kitchen to see what the hosts of the party have on offer.

When you go in the door, you see a young man with long, dark, wavy hair and tan skin animatedly talking to another man. He’s gripping a vodka bottle by the neck and pouring it over some ice cubes in a glass the other man is holding. They talk a bit more and then the man leaves with his drink.

“Good evening, darling,” the man says as he turns to you, giving you a friendly smile.

“Hello,” you say, a little nervously. “Is this your house?”

“I’m afraid not,” he replies. “But somehow I ended up on bartender duty. I’m Freddie.”

“I’m Lynne.”

“What would you like?”

“I’ll have a beer.”

“All right, let’s see what they’ve got.”

Freddie puts the vodka bottle down on the counter and walks over to the refrigerator to look inside.

“Let’s see,” he says from behind the open fridge door. “They’ve got Heineken, Heineken, and Heineken.”

“Hmm, tough choice,” you say. “I guess I’ll go with Heineken.”

Freddie reappears with a bottle in hand. “Excellent choice!” He pops the cap off for you and hands you the bottle.

“Thanks, Freddie.”

**To stay and chat with Freddie while you drink your beer, go to Chapter 6.**

**To leave the kitchen, go to Chapter 7.**


	3. Chapter 3

The house I fairly big, so you figure there must be a lot more to see than just what is in this front room where most of the people are gathered, so you start to look around.

Off the main room, you find a little corridor with a couple of doors at the end and on either side. You open one door and find a bathroom. It’s sort of a nice bathroom, you suppose, but it’s not exactly an interesting place to explore.

You close the door, but as you turn around after doing so, you find yourself colliding with another person.

“I’m sorry!” you say immediately. “Are you okay?”

This other person towers over you; he’s tall and thin, with big, curly hair.

“Yes, I’m fine. Not to worry,” he says in a reassuring tone.

“I should have been looking where I was going.”

“Like I told you, I’m fine. Things like this happen, sometimes.”

You shrug. “I guess you’re right.”

“Were you looking for someone?” he asks. “I don’t mean to pry, but you seemed a little lost.”

“I’m not _lost_ , exactly,” you reply. “I was just looking around. I’m sorry, if this is your house. I didn’t mean to be a snoop. Well, I mean, I didn’t mean to…” _I didn’t mean to invade anyone’s privacy_ , is what you ought to say.

“This isn’t my house,” the man says. “But the owner isn’t blocking off any of the rooms, either, so it’s okay if you want to explore. I was actually looking for one of the rooms, myself.”

“Really?”

“The host mentioned there’s a guitar in one of the bedrooms,” he explains. “The guests wanted me to play something for everyone.”

“Are you in the band?” you ask.

“I am,” he says. “I’m Brian, the guitarist.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. “I’m Lynne. Nice to finally meet someone in the band throwing this party. Queen, right?” Brian nods. “I came here with a friend, but I don’t actually know much of anything about Queen.”

“To be honest, I don’t think you’re the only one at this party who doesn’t know anything about us,” Brian says. He gestures for you to follow him down the hall as he looks inside the door of a bedroom. There’s no guitar, so he moves on.

“Why would someone be invited if they don’t know the band?”

“Probably for monetary reasons. Or publicity,” Brain says. He finds what he is looking for and you follow him inside the bedroom. You close the door behind you, enjoying closing yourself off from the noises of the party. When you enter, you see an acoustic guitar sitting on a stand in the corner of the room. Brian picks it up, then sits on the bed and starts to tune it. When he’s finished, he lifts his head to look at you.

“Shall I play one for you?” he asks. You’ve never been serenaded before, and at first you think maybe it would be too much, but you are also curious about what his guitar-playing sounds like.

“Okay,” you say. Brian’s fingers tug at his curls absentmindedly for a few seconds as he stares at the floor pensively, no doubt deciding on which song he wants to play for you.

When he begins, his voice is like nothing you have heard before. It’s gentle, like his speaking voice, but strong all the same.

“When I was young it came to me  
That I could see the sun breaking…”

It’s not like any song you’ve ever heard before, sort of wistful.

“Oh, the night comes down…”

When the song ends, you feel like you should clap, but you don’t want to disrupt the hushed quality in the room, so you do it as quietly as you can. Brian smiles a little and bows his head.

“Thank you,” he says. He almost seems embarrassed. No, _humble_ is the right word.

You hope he will play another song for you, but instead he stands up.

“I suppose I should go and deliver on my promise to everyone,” he says.

**To follow Brian to the living room, go to Chapter 8.**

**If you don’t want to do that, go to Chapter 9.**


	4. Chapter 4

You’ve been standing around for a while, so you think it would be nice to rest your feet. You head for the sofa.

“Is anyone sitting here?” you ask, just to make sure the spot really isn’t taken. A young man with long, wavy, brown hair turns to you when he hears your voice.

“No,” he replies. You sit down next to him. “I’m John, by the way.”

“Lynne.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, smiling a little. It’s the cutest smile you’ve ever seen.

You don’t speak for a few moments.

“Do you know the band?” you ask him, feeling at ease since he doesn’t seem to be forcing conversation, but wanting to talk all the same.

“I sure do,” he replies. “It helps when you’re in it, you know.”

“Oh!” you exclaim. You had no idea, not being familiar with Queen, but you didn’t expect someone who seemed quiet to be in a rock band. You realize that that was a silly assumption.

“You seem surprised,” John says, chuckling. “Do I come across as that uninteresting?”

“No, not at all!” you say. “What instrument do you play?”

“I play the bass, but I’ve started to write some songs, too.”

“Any I might know?”

“No hit singles as of yet, I’m afraid. Just album tracks here and there.”

“I’m sure you will have a hit one day,” you say encouragingly.

“It’s a bit of fun, really,” John explains. “If it happens, it will, and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I’m happy just to be along for the ride and contributing where I can. You don’t need to write the songs to do that.”

“No, I guess you’re right,” you say, in awe of his mindset. “But I’m holding out for you.”

“What do you do, Lynne?”

**To talk to John about your hobbies, go to Chapter 10.**

**To talk to John about your job, go to Chapter 11.**


	5. Chapter 5

It is a bit stuffy and noisy inside the house, so you decide it would be nice to go outside to get some air for a while and take a break from it all. You find the door and step out onto the back porch.

You’re not the only one there. A man with long, blond hair is already there, leaning over the railing facing out towards the garden. He is holding a cigarette between his fingers in his right hand.

He turns his head when the door closes behind you and makes a slight clunk.

“Hi,” he says, exhaling a stream of smoke and giving you a little smile in greeting.

“Hello,” you reply politely.

“Nice night,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say. You lean on the railing a couple feet away from him, downwind so that you don’t smell the smoke too much and it doesn’t blow in your face. You both stand in silence for a few minutes, listening to the gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees.

“You a new PA or something?” the man asks suddenly. “I haven’t seen you at our parties before.”

“Oh, no,” you say, though you know you would probably be much more interesting if that were true. “I’m not with the band. My friend brought me here with her. She knows a roadie.”

“I see,” the man says. “How are you finding it, your first Queen party?”

“Not great, I must admit,” you say. “My friend left me alone a little while ago and I haven’t really talked much with anyone. Probably because nobody else here knows me.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he says, flicking off the burnt end of his cigarette before turning to face you directly. “I’m Roger.”

“Lynne.” You shake hands.

“Now you know someone else besides your friend who brought you,” Roger says. “And a good choice, I must say.”

“Is that so?” you ask teasingly.

“Well, yeah,” he says, smiling wider. “Just look at me.”

“That’s a matter of personal taste, you know,” you say. You don’t know where this is all coming from, since you’re not usually like this with people you’ve just met.

“Ouch,” he says.

“I never said it wasn’t _my_ personal taste,” you say. “But I won’t confirm or deny at this moment.”

“Fair enough.”

Roger stamps out what’s left of his cigarette – which isn’t much – and turns around, leaning back against the railing.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

You are surprised by the question. “No?”

He looks disappointed. “My own party and you don’t recognize me.”

“Oh, you’re in the band? Queen?”

“Our one and only drummer,” he confirms.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “I had no idea!”

“It’s all right, really,” he says, trying to brush it off. “You aren’t the first one.”

“It must be fun,” you say. “Being a drummer in a band, I mean.”

“That it is,” Roger agrees. “But it’s a lot of hard work, too. We’re quite the perfectionists when you get right down to it. We all want an album to be good, so we spend a lot of time getting everything just right, oftentimes arguing about how something should sound or which songs should be on the album.”

“Even with the fighting it sounds way more fun than anything I’ve ever done,” you say. “I work in this stupid kitschy shop where nothing interesting ever happens.”

“It must have its charms.”

“You’d think. But no.”

“Well, then, let’s not think about it,” Roger says, patting your shoulder reassuringly. “You’re not there, now. Let’s enjoy the present.”

Roger starts to head towards the door to go inside the house.

**To go back inside with Roger, go to Chapter 13.**

**If you would rather stay outside, go to Chapter 12.**


	6. Chapter 6

“So, are you in the band? Queen, was it called?” you ask.

“Why, yes! I am!” Freddie replies, his eyes lighting up. “I’m the lead singer of Queen, though I also play piano on some of our songs.”

“Cool,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “Any I might have heard before?”

To your surprise, he starts singing right there in the kitchen.

“ _Keep yourself alive  
Keep yourself alive  
It’ll take you all your time and money  
Honey you’ll survive!_”

You clap quietly, blown away by this short vocal performance. Freddie bows.

“I think I’ve heard it before,” you say. “That was very good!”

“Thank you,” he replies. “It was one our first hits. The first of many, I hope!”

“I hope so, too,” you say, making a mental note to visit the record store the next chance you get.

“Say,” Freddie begins, “if you didn’t know about us, how did you get to this party?”

“My friend brought me,” you say. “She knows one of your roadies.”

“Oh, really? Who?”

“Er…” you pause, feeling a little embarrassed that you don’t remember his name. “I only met him earlier tonight. I’ve forgotten his name.”

Freddie seems to notice your embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it, darling; there’s too many people here to keep track of. It doesn’t matter.”

Just then, a funk groove starts emanating from the room just outside the kitchen door. You hear the throng of guests become more lively. Freddie peeks outside the door.

“They’ve all started dancing,” Freddie says. “Perfect distraction. I can finally go on that expedition I had been hoping for.” He turns to you. “Would you like to join me?”

**To join Freddie on his expedition, go to Chapter 16.**

**If you’d rather not, go to Chapter 17.**


	7. Chapter 7

You got what you wanted in the kitchen so you figure there’s no reason for you to stick around. You open the door and walk back out to see what you might want to do next. You stand outside the kitchen and take a sip of your drink while you look around.

“You look a little lost,” a voice to your left says suddenly. You turn to see a man with long blond hair and wearing a colourful jacket leaning nonchalantly against the wall next to you. You wonder how long he’s been standing there. Has he been watching you?

“Er…no, not really,” you reply. “Well, I suppose I am, a bit. I don’t go to parties very much, and I don’t really know anyone here except a friend of mine, but I don’t know where she went.”

“Well, that’s no good,” the man says. “Parties are supposed to be fun.”

You look around for a moment, then at the floor, unsure of what to say next.

“I’m Roger, by the way,” he says, extended his hand. You shake it.

“Lynne.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, Lynne,” he says, his sentence interrupted in the middle by him sipping his drink, “how did you end up here if you don’t know anyone? Besides your one friend, that is.”

“My friend knows a roadie who works for the band – Queen, I think it’s called – and she got us invited. I decided to tag along since I didn’t have anything else planned.”

“So, you don’t even know the band?”

“I can’t say that I do.”

“So you don’t recognize me, then?”

“No,” you say, a little confused by the question. “Should I? Have we met before?”

He chuckles. “No, we haven’t met. I’m the drummer for Queen. Well, one of the singers, too, technically speaking.”

“Oh,” you say, your face becoming flushed. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he says, chuckling again. “Speaking of the band, I was just on my way to kitchen when you appeared to see if Freddie – he’s our lead singer – wanted to play pool. There’s a table downstairs in the basement.”

“Yes, he’s in there,” you say, remembering the name of the man who poured your drink.

“Great. Would you like to join us?”

**To play pool with Roger and Freddie, go to Chapter 26.**

**If you don’t want to play pool, go to Chapter 27.**


	8. Chapter 8

“Oh, right,” you say. You get up, turn off the light in the room, and close the door behind you before following Brian back into the sitting room.

The guests have left a spot for him to sit by the fireplace. The party guests are sitting and standing in a circle arranged around this point so that they will all be able to see him.

You suppose this setting probably seems intimate to the others compared to what they would get at a proper concert on a stage, but to you it feels overcrowded compared to when it was just you and Brian.

Brian takes his seat in front of them all. He seems a little embarrassed to have all these people watching him expectantly, but when he starts playing his expression completely changes. When he’s focused on the music, he seems confident and at ease. It’s a different song than the one he played with you.

“Yesterday, my life was in ruin  
Now today, I know what I’m doing  
Got a feeling I should be doing all right.”

“Doing all right!” another man pipes in, harmonizing with Brian. He has long blond hair. After this line of the song, he starts patting a beat on his lap. Brian flashes him a smile. They know each other. It’s like they’ve played together before. You realize he must be another member of the band.

They keep singing the song together and the party guests start bobbing their head to the song’s beat as it picks up slightly in tempo. You find yourself doing the same. Brian and this other fellow are so completely in synch, it amazes you.

The whole room is under their spell and when the song finishes they all clap enthusiastically.

“Did you all start performing without me?” a voice suddenly calls int the room.

**To stay and find out who it is, go to Chapter 24.**

**If you need a break from the crowd, go to Chapter 25.**


	9. Chapter 9

You follow Brian down the hallway, but when he gets to the sitting room, you see that all – or at least most – of the party guests have gathered. Big groups of strangers like this are the reason you don’t like going to parties very often, and you know they will all see you coming out of the hallway with Brian. You don’t like it, since you know what people might think.

“I’m thirsty, I’m going to go get a drink in the kitchen,” you say. Brian barely reacts.

“All right,” he says, before going to the place the guests have left for him and his guitar.

You head into the kitchen to get a drink. You’ve been seeing a lot of guests with beer bottles, but you hope that’s not al that there is on offer.

“Hello,” someone says cheerfully as you enter the kitchen.

“Oh, hello,” you say. “I didn’t think anyone would be in here.”

“Just little old me,” the man says, tossing his dark wavy hair. While he’s not particularly tall, there’s nothing particularly “just little” about the way he responded to your question. “I’m Freddie. Freddie Mercury.”

What an unusual name, you think as you shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” you say. “I’m Lynne.”

“Enchanté. Can I get you anything? It seems I’ve ended up on bartender duty, somehow. We’ve got vodka, beer, and I think I may have heard someone refer to a wine cellar downstairs.”

“Actually,” you say. “I’d really just like a glass of water. It’s rather warm out there.”

“And not in here?” Freddie asks, giving you a look and batting his eyelashes. It’s so unexpected that you can’t help but laugh. He smiles at you and you know you don’t actually have to answer that rhetorical question.

He finds a glass in the cupboard and fills it with water for you.

“Thanks,” you say and take a sip. It’s refreshing, which is what you needed.

As you drink your water, you hear Brian’s voice and the sound of the guitar. It’s muffled by the door, but it’s recognizable. You can tell Freddie hears it, too, because he rushes over to the door and opens it a crack.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters. “They’re out there playing without me.”

“You’re in the band, too?” you ask. You had no idea.

“I’m the lead vocalist,” he says. “And Brian and Roger are out there singing our songs.”

“Roger?”

“Our drummer. That little blond guy there,” he explains, pointing to the other man who is singing and tapping out a beat on his lap. “I’m going out there to join them.”

**To go with Freddie to the living room, go to Chapter 22.**

**If you would rather stay behind with your drink, go to Chapter 23.**


	10. Chapter 10

“My job isn’t nearly as interesting as anything you would do as a rock musician,” you say. “I work in a silly little shop. It’s the other things in life that mean more to me. I love to paint.”

John seems intrigued, so you continue.

“I picked up painting a few years ago and found I couldn’t stop, so what little money I can save up I spend on paint, brushes, paper, and canvases.”

“Do you paint abstracts or more realistic paintings?” John asks.

“I sort of dabble, I suppose,” you say. “Although I’m not very good at realistic pictures, so even those come out looking more like abstracts.”

John chuckles at your description. “I’m sure that gives them character,” he says.

Nobody has ever said that to you before, and you’re touched by his open-mindedness despite never having seen any of your paintings.

“What do you paint pictures of? People? Animals?” he asks.

“What ever I feel like painting at the moment,” you say. “Sometimes friends or family. Sometimes I use photographs from magazines as references. And other times I just paint the view from the window of my apartment.”

“Sounds relaxing,” John says.

“It is,” you say, your eyes brightening. “That’s part of what I love about it. When I’m painting, I can just take my time, nothing else matters except my subject, me, and my paintbrush.”

“That’s kind of what it’s like to play music,” John says. “Except with a band the others matter, too, obviously. But when you’re in tune with one another, you’re mind is completely in the music.”

You can see in John’s eyes that what he is talking about makes him happy. You try to imagine him standing onstage with his band, a focused expression on his face as he plays his bass.

“It started off as just a hobby for me, too, while I was studying,” John continues. “But it’s becoming something more, now.”

“If I could make painting more than just a hobby, I think my life would be figured out. It would be made. It would be just about perfect.”

You see John nod, slightly, but his attention is pulled when the music in the room gets louder, a song with a catchy funk groove starting up. John’s head starts to bob to the beat and a moment later he practically leaps up from his seat on the sofa. He turns around to face you and holds out his hand.

“Care to dance?”

**To dance with John, go to Chapter 14.**

**If you’d rather not, go to Chapter 15.**


	11. Chapter 11

“My job is rather boring,” you say. “I work in this silly little shop. It’s not really a place I would even buy things at, myself.”

“What sort of shop?” John asks, though you’re not sure why he’s interested in knowing more.

“It’s a home decorating shop,” you say. “Not a very nice one, though. I suppose I’ve seen a few nice things there, but most of what they sell is this awful kitschy stuff. I think it might be a tourist trap, or something, but it’s hard to tell for sure, since there’s not much in the way of flags or other souvenirs. I know I wouldn’t spend my money on anything there, certainly not at the prices they charge.”

“Do they treat you well, at least?” John asks earnestly, though you can tell he is trying not to laugh at your story. It wouldn’t be the first time – you’ve noticed that people seem to be entertained by you when you complain about your job.

“I guess so,” you say. “Though the pay could be a bit better. Not that I think they could afford to give me a raise. I’d really like to work in an art store, or a gallery.”

“You like art?”

“Love it,” you say. “Especially painting; I love painting.”

“Are you very good?”

“Well, I’m not great,” you say. “But I think most of the time I’m getting better. A little bit better every time I give it a go.”

“Music is like that, too,” John says. “Nobody is spectacular at the bass the first time they pick one up. I certainly wasn’t. Though I do wonder about Brian, our guitarist, sometimes. He plays like he came out of the womb playing guitar.”

“It sounds like he’s very talented,” you say. “You must be a good band, then.”

“We’re pretty all right,” John jokes. “Brian’s got this great sound on his guitar. Not to brag, but the amplifier I built seems to help with that, so I suppose I am rather proud of that.”

“You built an amplifier?” you interject with surprise.

“Well, I did study electronics in school,” John says. “Brian and Roger studied science before joining the band, too.”

“That’s so cool!”

“We’re a bit of an odd bunch, not what you’d really expect from a rock band, but things seem to be working out for us.”

You are trying to find something to say to express how interesting of a group Queen seems to be, when the music in the room gets a bit louder. A funk song with a great beat starts playing. John gets up from his seat next to you and holds out his hand.

“Care to dance?”

**To dance with John, go to Chapter 14.**

**If you’d rather not, go to Chapter 15.**


	12. Chapter 12

“I think I’ll stay out here,” you say.

“You sure?” Roger asks.

“I’m sure,” you say, and this time he does go inside.

You turn around to face the garden and take a deep breath. It’s so much calmer out here, you’re happy for the relief of being outside of the stuffy, noisy house for a while. You start to daydream until suddenly you hear the door opening and closing behind you.

You turn to see a tall man with huge, dark, curly hair walking towards you.

“Hi,” you say tentatively.

“Hi,” the man says, glancing at you before looking up. “Roger was right, the sky is perfectly clear tonight.”

You look up to see that he’s right. You are taken aback by how many stars are visible. You can never see this many in the city. This house isn’t exactly in the country, but it’s far enough away from the city that there’s significantly less light from nearby buildings and other houses.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the man says, though he says it more like a statement than a question. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a sky like this.”

“It is beautiful,” you agree. “Do you know any constellations?”

He nods his head slightly, just enough to make his curls bounce a little. He lifts his hand and points to a group of stars in a slightly W-shaped formation.

“That’s Cassiopeia,” he says, then moves his hand down slightly, tracing his finger through the air by some stars in a formation that reminds you of a crude drawing of a house. “That’s Cepheus, there.” He then moves his hand to the right. “And there’s Ursa Minor.”

“I know that one!” you say, finally recognizing the name of one of the constellations. “Although I always get it confused with the Plough.”

“Understandable,” he says. “They do look similar. You can actually use the stars in the Plough,” he points to them, “to find Ursa Minor. Though their shapes do stand out rather well to begin with.”

You look at the shapes you recognize, standing out among what otherwise seems like a perfectly random arrangement to you.

“I’m sure you know this one, too,” he says, reaching over to the right to a constellation that you can just see above the horizon. “That’s Leo.”

“I couldn’t have recognized it,” you admit. “But of course I’ve heard of it. I can see the head of the lion, now. It actually looks like an animal, unlike the ‘Little Bear.’”

The man chuckles. “It’s true, they don’t all immediately look like what they’re named for.”

“I wonder why that is,” you muse aloud.

“Well,” he says, “hundreds and thousands of years ago people used their imaginations. I suppose the night sky could have been like their cinema. I’m sure after hours and hours of staring at them, they couldn’t help but pick out shapes and then imagine what they could represent. A lot of the names are from mythology. What they saw was probably influenced by familiar stories and things. It’s not in the sky at the moment, but the shape of the constellation Sagittarius evoked a centaur archer at the time it was named, but these days we might see a teapot in its shape. And what we call Ursa Major – or the Big Bear – was seen as a fisher by native peoples in North America.”

“Cool,” you say, knowing that all the while it’s a reductive statement after everything he’s told you. This man whose name you realize you don’t know, it just occurred to you. “I’m Lynne, by the way.”

“Pardon me for not introducing myself,” he says, looking a little embarrassed. “I’m Brian.”

“Nice to meet you. Where did you learn so much about astronomy? Do you have a telescope?”

“More than that, I studied astrophysics in university, actually,” he says.

“That’s so cool!” you exclaim. “What’s an astrophysicist doing at a party like this?”

He laughs a little awkwardly. “I’m not _really_ an astrophysicist, I never submitted my thesis. But I’m here because I’m in the band.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” says Brian, smiling. “I was studying at Imperial College when we got the band together, but lately things have been too busy to complete my thesis. But being in a band isn’t too bad, either.”

“I can imagine,” you say. “I’m sure it’s much more interesting than anything I’ve ever done or ever will do.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Brian says. “Everyone has stories to tell.”

“I’m sure I don’t,” you say, wishing he would just drop it.

“Well, where do you work?”

“At a stupid shop that sells stupid ugly nonsense.” This is the second time tonight that you’ve been made to mention it and you’re not sure why anyone cares.

“Have there ever been some unusual customers?”

It takes you a minute to remember anything.

“There was this one man who came to the shop once who thought we sold furniture,” you say. “We don’t. We sell lots of other decorating things – vases, frames, wall hangings, things like that. But this man insisted he had seen in the shop a chair he wanted, no matter how many times we told him we didn’t sell furniture. He had me walk around the whole shop with him, showing him everything we had. He’s describing this pink and red striped chair that I can’t recall seeing. But we’re looking for it. And then all of a sudden we find it. It’s not a real chair, it’s a picture of a chair that we have hanging on the wall. He had seen this picture and thought he had seen a real chair.”

Brian grinned in amusement. “What did he do after that?”

“He left, rather dejected, I think.”

“Did he ever come back?”

“Not that I can recall.”

“Well, you still have an interesting story from your job. It’s not all boring, after all.”

“I suppose you right,” you concede.

Suddenly, a couple of people who you presume are party guests come outside.

“We found some sparklers in the closet,” the one guy says. “Do you want to join us in lighting them?”

Just as he asks this, a cool breeze starts to blow across the deck.

**To light sparklers, go to Chapter 20.**

**If you would rather go inside to warm up, go to Chapter 21.**


	13. Chapter 13

You follow Roger inside the house back towards the living room where people are talking, music continuing to play in the background. He leads you over to the couch, where there are two free seats.

“Hi, John!” Roger says to the man sitting at the end of the couch.

“Hi, Roger,” the man says, brushing his long, wavy brown hair over his shoulder.

“Lynne, this is John.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, shaking John’s hand.

“There,” says Roger, “now you know two people other than that friend of yours who brought you.”

“Are you in the band, too?” you ask John.

“I am,” John replies. “I play bass.”

“He’s the perfect bass player for us,” Roger adds.

“Maybe,” John says. “I don’t know if we can be absolutely certain of that.”

“I said _for us_ , mate. We were never happy with our bass players until you came along. I don’t know if there’s such thing as a perfect musician, but when it comes to Queen bassists, you’re it.”

Roger and John seem like good friends. You find it sweet.

“You’re going mushy on me, Rog,” John teases. “Are you working on a ballad for the next album, or something?”

“Not as of yet, but you never know.”

“Do you both write songs for the band?” you ask.

“I’ve written some here and there,” Roger replies. “Only album tracks, though.”

“No hit singles from me yet, either,” John adds.

“Well, I’m sure you could one day. I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks” Roger says.

“I’m going to need all the luck I can get with Roger around,” John says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Roger asks, nudging John’s ribs playfully with his elbow.

“You already know.”

“Oh, do I?”

You think, perhaps, they are more like brothers.

Suddenly, the music in the room gets louder as a new song plays, one with an infectious funk groove. John gets up from his seat and starts to dance. Roger gets up after him, then turns to you and extends his hand.

“Let’s dance,” he says.

**To dance with Roger and John, go to Chapter 18.**

**If you’d rather not, go to Chapter 19.**


	14. Chapter 14

You don’t dance much, but the music is good and you’re enjoying John’s company.

“Okay,” you say. You take his outstretched hand and he helps you up. He is taller than you realized when you were sitting down, which you’re not sure is on account of his long legs or his platform shoes. Probably both. When you let go of his hand, he immediately starts to move to the beat.

You smile as you watch him, but stop short of laughing lest he think you were making fun of him. John’s way of dancing is…well, you would describe it as “unique.” It’s not that he has no sense of rhythm, because he very much does – since he’s a musician, you’d be concerned if he didn’t – but you’ve never seen anyone dance quite like him.

You start to dance, too, moving in your own strange little way. You know your dance moves could use a little improvement, but seeing the way John dances, in his own way without seeming to care how many people might see him, makes you feel more comfortable.

As the song changes key and picks up in tempo, you find yourself losing the beat. John takes your hands in his and you start to find it again as you move along with him. When you get back into it, he twirls you and you laugh – not at anything that’s funny, but because you’ve never had this much fun dancing before.

And you can tell John loves it, too.

Whoever is choosing the music puts on a few more upbeat songs, and the two of you carry on along with many of the other guests, but you suddenly feel unsure of what to do when a slow song comes on. You like John, but you have only known him for a few minutes, an hour at the most, and you’ve never slow-danced with anyone. It’s something you associate with lovers, with couples. But you also don’t really want to stop dancing.

John seems to pick up on your uncertainty.

“Do you want to take a break?” he asks. You decide that you’d better, and you nod. “Would you like some water or something?”

“Sure,” you reply.

John disappears through the crowd, presumably going to the kitchen, and reappears a minute later with two glasses of water. You take your seats on the sofa, still unclaimed by anyone who left the dance when the slow song came on.

“Thanks,” you say as he hands you one glass. You take a tentative sip. It tastes normal, so you drink more.

John must know the song that is playing, because you realize you can hear him humming along to it. You start to sway to the song ever so slightly. Neither of you force conversation, you just sit and enjoy the song.

When another upbeat song comes on, you do speak.

“Do you want to dance some more?”

“I’m a little hungry, actually,” John replies. “I think I’ll get a snack. Want to join me?”

**To have a snack with John, go to Chapter 28.**

**If you’d rather get some air, go to Chapter 29.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lynne takes a risk in this chapter by accepting a drink she didn't see being prepared. This is a fantasy, so nothing bad happens. Be careful in similar real-life situations.


	15. Chapter 15

John seems like a nice guy, but you’re not sure you can handle the embarrassment of dancing in front of him and all these other people. You don’t have two left feet, exactly, but your dance moves could use some improvement.

“Er, no thanks,” you say. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

John shrugs and turns away. You watch him dance in a way that you would describe as “unique.” He seems to be enjoying himself. He spots a girl looking his way and he makes his way towards her. You watch for a few more seconds before you get up from the sofa and walk away from where the dancing group has gathered. They become a mass of people and you find yourself getting bored.

You get up from the couch and go to the bathroom. When you come out, nothing has changed. You get yourself a drink and then go find somewhere else to sit down. Nobody seems to want to talk to you.

When things quiet down and become even more boring, your friend finds you and tells you it’s time to leave.

 _Thank god,_ you think, glad to be saved from this boring night. Things had started off all right, but because of how things turned out you start to wish you hadn’t come.

THE END.


	16. Chapter 16

You’re curious what Freddie means by an “expedition.” It sounds like fun.

“Okay,” you say.

You both go out the kitchen door and walk past the dancing party guests, who don’t notice you and Freddie passing by without joining them. You follow him up the stairs.

“Freddie,” you say suddenly, a little nervous. He turns to you, looking a little puzzled. “This isn’t…we’re not…”

Freddie grins and makes a gesture that suggests you need not worry.

“While in principle I’ve got nothing against what you are suggesting, dear, it’s not what I had in mind. I’m not about to try anything elicit with you. If I was, you’d know, though I wouldn’t in your case.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling relieved that you hadn’t misunderstood him, but wondering what he means by _your case_. You don’t really care, though. “Carry on!”

You continue on up the stairs. There are several doors leading to rooms on the second storey. The first Freddie looks in is an empty bedroom, nicely made up. Freddie continues on down the hall to the next door, which he walks right by because it’s a bathroom. The third door is closed and he stops in front of it. He knocks twice. There is no response, so he opens the door a crack, flips the light switch, and peeks in. A smile appears on his face when he turns around to face you and indicates for you to follow him in.

You go in and close the door behind you. It’s another bedroom.

“I found you, lovelies!” he says quietly as he walks towards the bed. That’s when you notice two cats curled up on the bed: a shorthaired ginger tabby and a fluffy black and white cat.

“How did you know there were cats here?” you ask, walking over to the bed to visit with the black and white cat while Freddie petted the ginger cat.

“I was looking for the bathroom and ended up finding the basement stairs. I saw that there was a litter box at the bottom, so I knew there had to be cats somewhere. Not out and about with the party guests, surely, but somewhere in the house.”

“That’s clever,” you say. “Although it’s rather bold of you to snoop around someone else’s house.”

“You never know what might happen at a party,” Freddie says. “I like to have a lay of the land.”

The black and white cat starts to purr and scrunches up its nose as you scratch it under its chin.

“Do you have any cats?”

Freddie nods. “Their names are Tom and Jerry.”

“That’s sweet.”

“One day I’ll have even more, when I get a bigger place. I love them.”

“The more the merrier, of course,” you say with a chuckle.

“Absolutely,” Freddie agrees. “Especially with these sweet babies. They must be lonely cooped up in here by themselves in this one room.”

“Good thing we found them. Though they seem to be taking it all in stride.”

The ginger tabby yawns, as if on cue.

“They certainly do,” says Freddie.

“I sometimes think it would be nice to be a cat, lazing around whenever I pleased. They always seem to fall asleep so easily; they don’t need to toss and turn to get comfortable.”

“If you have a nice warm house, it’s a nice life,” Freddie agrees. “I’m going to make a nice life for lots and lots of cats. Maybe they’ll each have their own room to sleep in.”

“But don’t you think they like to be together?”

“Well, of course their segregation won’t be enforced,” Freddie explains. “But there’ll be enough rooms that they can all find someplace to be alone when they need some quiet time.”

“It sounds like you have life all figured out,” you say. “I wish I did.”

“I definitely don’t have _everything_ figured out, but I have a few ideas.”

You reminisce with Freddie about childhood dreams and the pets you had. The conversation then moves onto other things. You jump from subject to subject so easily, one after the other, that you have no idea how much time has passed, nor do you care.

Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. Freddie calls to whoever is on the other side to come in. It’s your friend.

“There you are, Lynne!” she says. “I was looking all over for you. Almost everyone has already left. It’s time to go home.”

You feel a little disappointed since you have been having such a nice time, but you knew it couldn’t last forever. You get up from where you were kneeling by the bed.

“Say hello to Tom and Jerry for me,” you tell Freddie.

“With pleasure,” he says.

With that, you leave.

As you ride home in your friend’s car, you hope that you will be able to get in contact with Freddie thanks to your friend’s connection with the band. It seems to you the start of a beautiful friendship.

THE END.


	17. Chapter 17

You find it just a little strange that Freddie describes something he wants to do as an “expedition.” You have no idea what he is planning or where this so-called expedition might take place. It sounds like it just might be a little too much for you.

“No, thank you,” you say, staying right where you are.

Freddie looks a little disappointed, but shrugs it off.

“All righty, then. Suit yourself. It was lovely making your acquaintance.”

Freddie leaves the kitchen. As the door swings back and forth, you see him cross the living room and disappear up the stairs to the second floor of the house.

You finish your beer in the kitchen. A few people come in, but they only say hello to you briefly as they pour their drinks and leave again. Once you’ve finished your first beer, you help yourself to another one and then head back out to the party. Couples are slow dancing and everyone is already talking with someone else. Those who are still there, that is, which isn’t many. You don’t see any sign of your friend who brought you here, nor any sign of Freddie.

When your friend finally appears, she informs you it’s time to leave, so you go with her.

You had some fun on this evening, but you feel disappointed. Maybe parties aren’t your thing, after all.

THE END.


	18. Chapter 18

You take Roger’s hand and he helps you up from the couch. You almost fall into his arms, taken aback by the force with which he pulls you up. He uses the momentum to pull you into a spin, making sound effects as he does it, as if you were on an amusement park ride. You can’t help but laugh at the silliness of it. As you turn, his teeth flash a smile across your visual field.

The two of you start to dance face to face. Roger’s movements start out small, but smooth, and perfectly on the beat, which you suppose isn’t surprising for a drummer. He’s probably physically incapable of not feeling the beat of a song.

You continue on together for a while until Roger is suddenly pushed aside and John takes your hands and starts stepping in circles and bringing you along with him. He moves so differently from Roger, but not in a bad way.

“Mind if I cut in?” John calls to Roger teasingly.

“You don’t ask that _after_ cutting in!” Roger calls back. John laughs and you laugh along with him.

“I guess you’ll just have to steal me back!” you say to Roger as you and John continue to turn around and around.

You dance with John a bit more before Roger appears.

“I’m cutting in,” Roger says before gently transferring your hands from John’s to his.

John continues dancing on his own near the two of you, dancing even more strangely than before. Well, maybe not strange, but certainly unique.

When the funky song ends, a slower one comes on.

“Oh, no! Not this!” Roger complains. “We were just getting warmed up!”

“I’ll go see what I can do,” John says. He weaves through the slow-dancing couples and finds whoever it is operating the record player. You see him looking through the house record collection and pull one out, which he passes to the person on DJ duty. When the slow song fades out and is replaced by another, upbeat song, John makes his way back to you and Roger.

“Oh, come on, John!” Roger says. “Did it have to be disco?”

“You’re the one you wanted to dance,” John says, smiling smugly, before returning to his dance moves, clearly happy with his music choice and aware of the fact that it’s not Roger’s favourite.

“It’s not that bad, Roger,” you say. “It’s got a good beat for dancing. Come on!”

You start to dance and he joins you, seeming to slowly forget , or at least ignore the fact, that the music might not be his first choice. They play a few upbeat disco tracks in a row, and you find the repeating rhythms almost hypnotic. You keep dancing, enjoying Roger’s company and losing track of how much time has passed.

Some people begin to leave the dance floor, but you and Roger don’t stop. You glance over at John every once and a while, and he keeps going, too. When there’s enough room for it, you shimmy over closer to John. Roger moves along with you. When you’re close enough, you grab one of John’s hands and one of Roger’s and you twirl the both of them. They look taken aback, not used to being the one twirled by their dance partner, but they glance at each other and, still holding your hands, run in a circle to spin you around. They let go and you keep spinning on your own, laughing the whole time. When you stop and turn to face them again, they exchange a glance and shake their heads at you.

“What?” you say to them. “It was fun, wasn’t it?” Maybe it was silly and childish, but weren’t parties and excuse for adults to do childish things?

John shrugs. “That, it was.”

“That’s what a party should be,” Roger says. “Glad your first Queen party hasn’t been a total bust, after all.”

“Thanks for showing me it was possible,” you say to Roger as you walk closer to him, back from where he and John had flung you.

“With pleasure,” he says.

When the song ends and another slow one comes on, John offers to get drinks for all of you. You and Roger sit down on the couch and wait for him.

He tells you a story about a power cut at the sound board of one of their concerts and the frustration it caused. But through it all, their lead singer, Freddie, had tried to make the best of it and not let the audience down. Roger, not relying on electricity to be heard, did an unplanned drum solo for the audience. It sounded liked a memorable night.

When John comes back, clutching three beer bottles in his hands, he adds his own recollections of the concert, which had frustrated him as someone who knew how electronics worked. This leads you to asking how he knew this, which he explains is because of his degree in electrical engineering.

“As for Rog, here, he’s a dentist,” John adds.

“I was never a dentist,” says Roger. “I was studying biology after I dropped out of dentistry. You know that.”

“Lynne didn’t,” John replies nonchalantly before taking a sip of beer to free himself from the obligation to say anything more.

“You see what I have to put up with?” Roger teases.

“I thought I was the perfect bassist,” John interjects.

They continue to tell stories about some of their early gigs and how they each came to be part of the band. You tell them a little bit about your job and your hobbies, but their stories from being in the band are so interesting that you don’t want to stop hearing them. You talk and talk, barely noticing that people are starting to leave the party. You don’t think anything of it until you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You turn to see your friend who brought you here.

“It’s time to go, Lynne,” she says.

“Already?” you say sadly.

“Afraid so,” she says.

“Sorry,” you say, turning back to Roger and John. “She’s my ride.”

“That’s okay,” says Roger. “I’m sure we’ll see you around again.”

You give Roger a quick hug.

“Thanks for tonight. I had a great time,” you whisper before pulling away and getting up from the couch. “Bye, guys.”

As you ride away in your friend’s car, you hope that Roger is right, that you will see him again. And John, too. Maybe you’ll even get a chance to meet the other members of the band.

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lynne trusts John in this chapter not to put anything in her drink. In a similar real-life situation, be careful and don't accept drinks that weren't opened or prepared in front of you.


	19. Chapter 19

“No, thanks,” you say. “I’m not a great dancer.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Roger says. “It’s not a contest.”

“I really don’t think I should,” you say. It would be too embarrassing.

Roger lowers his outstretched hand, shrugs, and turns around to dance with John. John dances in a very unique way, as does Roger, but you cannot deny that they both have rhythm. They look like they are having fun and seem to have forgotten that you are there. Some girls try to catch their eye and they disappear into the throng of people.

You sit and listen to the music for a while, but it gets boring quickly, so you get up and go to another room where it’s quieter and less crowded, another sitting room out of the way from most of the party guests.

You sit down, a bit tired, in an armchair and close your eyes. The next thing you know your friend is waking you up and telling you it’s time to leave. In your drowsy state, you say nothing and follow her out to the car.

THE END.


	20. Chapter 20

“I haven’t lit sparklers in years!” you exclaim. “That sounds like fun!”

You and Brian walk over to the guy holding the package and you each take one out and let him light the ends. After a few seconds under the flame, they explode with light. You take off with yours, stepping down onto the grass and waving it around. Brian rushes to keep up with you, holding his out in front of him and watching the sparks fly.

You spell your name out in the air.

“Your turn, Brian!” you say.

“To do what?”

“Write your name in the air with the sparkler.”

You watch him slowly wave the sparkler in the cursive shapes of B-R-I-A-N.

“There you go!”

He looks at you and you smile at each other for a moment in the flickering glow.

“Here,” he says, holding his sparkler out to you. “Hold this.”

You oblige, even though you don’t want to deprive him of the fun. After passing you the sparkler, he swings something in front of him that looks like a binoculars case hanging over his shoulder – you hadn’t noticed it in the darkness – and takes out a strange-looking camera. Strange because it has two lenses.

He holds the camera up and quickly snaps a picture of you holding the sparklers.

“Take an action shot, next!” you say. You begin waving each sparkler in circles around you. Brian chuckles and takes another picture. You pose for another when the sparks abruptly stop.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” you say. You put the sparklers on the brick path by the side of the house to cool off, making a mental note to bring them inside later so that they can be disposed of properly.

“That was fun,” you say. “What kind of camera is that?”

“It’s a stereo camera,” Brian says, seeming excited to talk about it. “Stereoscopic. It takes three-dimensional photographs.”

“Cool!” you say. “How does it work? It must be really high-tech!”

“It’s a simple principle, actually,” Brian explains. “When we see things, each of our eyes sees whatever we’re looking at from a slightly different point of view. Our brains put the two images together so that we perceive depth. The camera works in the same way, taking two photographs from slightly different angles. When you look at the stereogram through a stereoscope – or by tricking your eye into combining the images, which takes practice – you see it as a three-dimensional image instead of a flat one like most photographs.”

“So you took pictures like that of me?” you ask, though it’s a rhetorical question.

“Yes, indeed,” Brian says. “I’m curious to see how they turn out, with the sparklers as the only real light source.”

“Too bad I won’t get to see them,” you say with a resigned sigh. You don’t foresee any possibility of ever seeing Brian after tonight. After this party, he’ll be back to his life as a rock musician and you will be back to your ordinary life.

“Why not?” Brian asks. He seems legitimately surprised by your remark.

“Do you really think we could? We live such different lives.”

“Well, it’s not like either of us is leaving the planet,” Brian says. “Nobody’s ever more than a phone call away these days.”

“Unless you live in a secluded cabin in the woods,” you say.

Brian nods knowingly. “Good thing neither of us do.”

You look down at the camera. “Can I try taking one?” Brian looks slightly hesitant all of a sudden. “I’ll be careful.”

Brian thinks for a second, then hands you the camera. After hanging the strap around your neck, he shows you how the camera works. You start to walk around, thinking about just what you want to take a picture of. You wander closer towards the deck, where there’s some light coming from the windows of the house.

“Brian,” you say suddenly. “What was that constellation? The one in the shape of a house?”

“Which house?” Brian looks up. “Do you mean Cepheus?”

While he’s looking at the sky, you choose that as your moment. You frame Brian in the viewfinder and click the shutter. Brian hears it and his head whips down to you. You think you see a bit of pink in his cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“Did you just photograph me?” he asks.

You nod. “I didn’t mean to trick you, but I thought you would make a good picture.” You pass the camera back to him and he secures it in its case.

“I should have prepared myself for the possibility that you would turn the camera on me,” Brian admits. “I completely let my guard down.”

“The best pictures are when people are relaxed,” you say.

“If you say so.”

“Well, you’ll see for yourself after you get the film developed.”

The two of you head over the porch steps. You start to ask him about the constellations. He points a few more out to you. You know you won’t remember them all, but you enjoy hearing about them all the same. The conversation moves from constellations to planets and outer space, to the general idea of what his thesis was about. Space is fascinating, and you get caught up in everything he is telling you. You don’t notice that you can’t hear the party just behind the back door of the house anymore.

You’re about to ask him something else, when someone behind you calls your name. You and Brian both turn around to see your friend who brought you to the party.

“Do you have any idea how late it is, Lynne?” she asks you in frustration. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Is it time to go, already?” you ask sadly, glancing at Brian, who shrugs. You figure he didn’t notice the time passing, either.

“It sure is,” your friend replies. “Come on.”

“She’s my ride,” you explain to Brian. “I have to go, now.”

“I’ll let you know when I get the photographs developed,” he says.

“See you then,” you say, waving goodbye before heading to the door of the house. “Wait.”

You go to pick up the discarded sparklers and you dispose of them inside the house before finally going to the car, your friend’s patience with you clearly worn out. Usually it bothers you, but tonight you don’t care.

You look out the window at the sky as you ride home in the car. You find yourself identifying some of the constellations and celestial bodies that Brian showed you earlier. You can’t wait until he can teach you more.

THE END.


	21. Chapter 21

“As fun as that sounds,” you say to the guy holding the sparklers. “It’s kind of chilly out here. I think I’d like to go inside to warm up.”

“Good idea,” Brian agrees. “You wouldn’t want to catch cold. Nobody likes getting a cold in the summer.”

You watch the others light their sparklers and run around the yard for a moment before you and Brian head inside. Brian heads straight for the kitchen, so you follow him. When you arrive, Brian is looking through the cupboards.

“What are you looking for?” you ask him.

“You said you were cold,” he says simply, like the answer should be obvious. “I’m looking for some tea to warm you up.”

You have to admit, it sounds perfect.

Brian finds the tea and you go to the sink to fill the kettle with water. Once you’ve put the kettle on, you find a couple of cups in another cupboard and set them down on the counter for when the water boils.

“Should we have biscuits with the tea?” he asks you.

“No, I don’t need biscuits,” you say. “Unless you want some.”

“Not particularly,” Brian says with a bit of a shrug.

When the water boils, Brian lifts the kettle carefully and pours the water over the tea bags sitting in the bottoms of the mugs. You take your tea over to the table and sit down, warming your hands on the outside of the mug while you wait for the contents to be cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Brian sits next to you for a moment before abruptly standing up.

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” He rushes out of the kitchen, letting the door flap back and forth behind him. A minute later he reappears, holding a blanket in his arms. He walks behind you and drapes it around your shoulders.

“Nice and cozy,” you say. “Thanks. This is really nice.”

“You’re welcome,” Brian says simply, giving you a little smile.

You hazard a sip of your tea. It’s finally at the perfect temperature, so you take another. You can feel the heat of each mouthful as it travels down your throat.

After seeing him take a few sips of his tea, you notice a strap hanging over Brian’s shoulder. You hadn’t noticed it outside in the dark. You reach one arm out from its warm spot under the blanket to point at it, though your mother’s admonishment that it’s not polite to point echoes in your mind as you do it.

“What’s that?” you ask.

“Hm?” Brian says, looking a little confused as to what you mean before turning his head to what you’re pointing to. “Oh, this.”

He bends down and lifts up what looks like a big binoculars case or a camera case. He puts it on the table and opens it. It is, in fact, a camera, but it’s not like any other camera you’ve seen before.

“This is my stereoscopic camera,” Brian says.

“What does it do?”

“It takes three-dimensional images. It works like a pair of human eyes, taking two pictures at a time from slightly different angles. If you have the right device for viewing it, your right eye will see only the right image, and your left eye the left image. And then your brain treats it like anything else you see and perceives depth.”

“So, I’m always actually looking at things from two different angles?”

“That’s right,” Brian says. “Your brain does all the work of making it into a single image.”

Testing out Brian’s explanation, you look at Brian and close one eye, then switch. The you open both. Brian chuckles.

“You didn’t believe me?” he asks.

“I did,” you reply. “I just wanted to see for myself.”

You pull your arms back under the blanket and, holding your mug in both hands, you take another sip. As you lower it from your lips, you hear a click.

“Sorry,” Brian says, putting the camera back down. “I should have asked first. But you looked so peaceful.”

“I don’t mind,” you say. “Candid photos are the best kind.”

“You think so?”

“Of course. The best pictures are when you capture a little bit of a person’s personality, and it’s easiest to do that when they’re relaxed and not expecting you to take a picture.”

“I guess you have a point there,” Brian admits. “But I don’t think posed photos are all bad, though I can’t say every promotional shoot has been fun all the time. The one Mick Rock took of us in little more than our birthday suits wasn’t exactly the most relaxing time.”

“I can imagine,” you say, finding it hard to believe that such a thing was real, but you figure Brian wouldn’t lie about that kind of thing. Truth is stranger than fiction. “I hope you had warm blankets like this at the end of it.”

“We had something like that,” Brian says. “I think if that wasn’t provided it would have been a violation of some rule somewhere. Not that that necessarily stops people from doing certain things in life.” Brian shakes his head and takes another sip of his tea. “The things you go through as a rock band.”

“I bet you’ve got all kinds of stories,” you say.

“Everyone’s got stories,” Brain says. “Roger, our drummer, could probably tell the story better, but he’s not here. There was this one concert where there was a film crew there, but not everyone was so happy about it. At the end of the concert, Roger decided he would show his displeasure. As we were reaching the end of our last song for the night, our bassist, John, stepped up close to the drum kit. I noticed Roger telling him something. Roger was facing away from me, so I couldn’t really hear him, but John quickly nodded and jogged away from the kit, so I had a feeling about what was about to happen. After the final flourish at the end of the last song of the night, Roger started pushing all his drums over so that they fell off the riser onto the stage below. He also made sure to knock over the microphone that the film crew had set up. The lights lowered and he, John, and Freddie, our singer, walked off the stage. I’m sure it was very affecting for the audience, except for the fact that I was still disconnecting my guitar from the amp, so I ended up alone onstage. Perhaps it ruined the effect a bit. I still thanked the audience for coming as I walked off. I hope they didn’t think we were angry at them.”

“I’m sure they just thought it was planned from the beginning,” you say. “Rock bands are known for smashing things. Were the drums ruined?”

“No, not as I recall,” Brian says. “They didn’t fall too far. Rog just made a mess. And nobody got hurt; that’s the main thing.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” you agree. “But it must have been exciting.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be an inaccurate thing to say.”

“But I guess you wouldn’t want life to be exciting every moment of every day,” you say. “It’s nice to have quiet time for tea.”

“Indeed, it is.”

You each take another sip. You want to enjoy it before it gets lukewarm. You’re having a good time, not having to force a conversation but open to speaking if you want to as you enjoy the warmth. When you take the last sip in your cup, you wish it could have lasted longer.

“The party’s quieted down,” Brian remarks, breaking the pause.

“You’re right,” you say. “I hadn’t noticed.”

You think for a moment.

“Do you think everyone else at the party has any idea we’re in here?” you ask.

“I think they’re all too busy doing what people do at these things.”

“This is the complete opposite of what you do at a party.”

“Unless it’s a tea party,” Brian says with a little grin, seemingly pleased by his own cleverness.

“Right. Who knew you’d find a tea party within a band party?”

Brian starts to say something when the kitchen door swings open.

“Lynne, there you are,” your friend says. She notices the blanket. “What are you doing?”

You glance at Brian and exchange a look.

“Having a tea party,” you say simply, knowing that that won’t provide all the answers she’s looking for.

“Well, the _real_ party is over,” she says. “It’s almost dead out there. Which means it’s time for us to go.”

“Oh,” you say sadly.

“I’ll call you when I get the photo developed,” Brian says.

“How will you find me?”

“Don’t be silly Lynne,” your friend interjects. “If I can get us into this party I’m sure I can get you two in touch.”

“Really?”

“Sure,” she says with a shrug. Brian nods.

“I’ll find you,” he says. “It’s amazing what technology lets us do these days.”

“Okay,” you say, standing up from a chair. “Thanks for the tea.” You take the blanket off and place it over Brian’s shoulders. For a moment your hands brush against his soft curls. “Bye, Brian.”

As you ride home in the car, you hope that Brian was right, that you will be able to keep in touch and see his stereo photos. They seem really cool.

Whether it was just one night or if there will be more, you’re glad you met him.

THE END.


	22. Chapter 22

“You all started performing without me!” Freddie exclaims as he walks into the living room. You follow right behind him.

“We didn’t know you wanted to,” Brian explains. “And it didn’t really start off as a full-blown performance. They asked me to play guitar, and then Roger joined in.”

“A likely story,” Freddie teases. Then, to your surprise, he turns to you. “Don’t you think so, Lynne?”

Your brain freezes when you’re put on the spot, but you manage to blurt out a response. “Er…yes! Likely story.”

Freddie smiles at you.

“Anyway, it’s time to remedy this situation now that I am here, darlings.”

Freddie joins Brian and Roger in front of the guests. They play “Keep Yourself Alive,” which has you tapping your toe where you’re seated in front of them. Then they start playing another upbeat song. You don’t know it, but you still find the melody infectious. You definitely are going to buy their album the next time you go to a record store.

You clap enthusiastically when their impromptu mini-concert comes to an end.

Freddie bows to the other party guests, then crouches down next to you.

“Did you enjoy it, darling?” he asks you quietly in your ear.

“Yes!” you reply. He smiles for a moment before closing his lips over his teeth. He seems self-conscious, but you don’t think he should be. His smile is beautiful. You can’t help but smile back at him.

He gets up then and starts to address the other party guests, his audience, again.

“Thank you! Thank you! Please buy our album!” he says.

“Very subtle, Fred,” Brian teases.

“Not everyone is smart enough to pick up nuanced messages like you, Brian,” Freddie teases back.

“Maybe we shouldn’t underestimate the intelligence of the guests?” Roger pipes in. You look around, people have already started chatting amongst each other again. Roger has no need to worry. You’re a little surprised that this group of people had been able to stay quiet long enough to enjoy the performance.

Before you know it, Freddie is taking your hand so that you can socialise with him and the band some more. A fourth man, with long wavy brown hair, joins you.

“Lynne,” Freddie says. “This is John Deacon, our bassist.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, shaking his hand.

The four of them share stories about how they all met and started Queen together. Freddie seems to embellish the stories with details the others would rather not include, which makes you laugh.

You enjoy all their stories so much that you don’t notice the time passing, don’t feel the need to move from the spot you’ve been standing in. Neither do the others. You don’t notice how the house slowly gets quieter and quieter.

It’s Brian who finally notices, when the conversation briefly lulls.

“Are we the only ones still here?” he asks to nobody in particular, looking around the empty living room. You suddenly feel a bit worried that your friend left without you.

“I hope my friend didn’t desert me,” you think aloud.

“I’ll help you look for her,” Freddie says, “though if she left you behind then you deserve better.” You don’t say it, but you think he’s right. You’ve had a better time with Freddie, Brian, and the others at this party than any recent get-together with your friend who brought you here.

You walk around the house with Freddie, checking the kitchen and the halls, until you run into your friend as she’s leaving one of the bedrooms with that roadie guy she introduced you to when you first arrived. You suppress the desire to laugh.

“Oh, hi Lynne!” she says. “I was just about to go looking for you.”

“I was worried you’d left without me,” you say.

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Freddie whispers in your ear. You know it’s unkind, but his words make you giggle.

“The party’s over?” she asks.

“Yup,” you say. “Well, pretty much. I was having a good time with Freddie and the others, though.”

“Who?”

“You know…” you say, gesturing at Freddie beside you, who seems ready to either laugh demonically or kick her down the stairs.

“Oh, right,” she says “Queen. You lucky girl. All right, just give me a few minutes. I need to go to…the bathroom.”

When she disappears, Freddie says hello to his roadie as he walks by and then the two of you finally let our all your laughter.

You’re still laughing when she exits the bathroom.

“All right,” your friend says. “Let’s go.”

“See you next time, Freddie!” you say to him as you descent the stairs.

“I honestly don’t understand what’s so funny,” your friend says as she starts the drive home.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” you say.

THE END


	23. Chapter 23

“I think I’ll stay here,” you say. You came to the kitchen to take a break from everything, and it seems a bit too soon to go back and face all those people. To your surprise, Freddie pulls on your arm.

“Come on, Lynne, don’t be so _boring_!” he exclaims.

You think of following him, but you find yourself resisting him. This isn’t for you, this place, this party, these people. You don’t belong here. Freddie gives into your resistance.

“You know, people usually have to pay to hear us perform,” he says. “You’re wasting an opportunity. I was going introduce you to everyone later on, let you sit right in front.”

It sounds nice, but you have already made up your mind. You don’t move. Freddie shrugs disappointedly.

“Suit yourself,” he says, then walks out.

Finally alone, you sip your water and listen to the muted sounds of the other room through the door. Like it’s by the flip of a switch, Freddie is back to his bubbly self as he joins the other guests and band members. You listen to them play and wish you were there, but you feel too embarrassed to make an appearance after the fuss you made with Freddie.

You sit alone in the kitchen until the party is over. Your friend finds you and takes you home.

You know you’ve made a terrible mistake in how you spent the evening, but you are too ashamed to talk about it.

THE END


	24. Chapter 24

“We didn’t know you wanted to,” Brian says to the man who just entered the room, a man with tan skin and dark hair. “And it didn’t really start off as a full-blown performance. They asked me to play guitar, and then Roger joined in.”

“A likely story,” the man teases.

“Freddie Mercury, everybody!” the blond one pipes in, whom you figured out is Roger. Then, Brian starts playing some different chords, faster in tempo. It sounds a little familiar. Freddie starts singing and it sounds even more familiar, but you don’t recognize it until he gets to the chorus.

“Keep yourself alive  
Keep yourself alive”

So, you _have_ heard Queen’s music before without knowing it. You start to bounce to the beat along with the rest of the crowd gathered here. You find yourself in awe of Brian. You knew Queen was a rock band, with all that that entails, but Brian seemed quiet and almost shy before. More like someone who might be a folk singer than someone who would play rock, but he seems just as much in his element playing this heavy and fast song as he did playing the more contemplative song he played for you earlier. You find that cool, though you think perhaps it’s not so surprising. You’re kind of shy, too, but you like fast songs just as much as slow ones, sometimes more.

While you enjoy how each band member contributes to the performance, you find yourself drawn mostly to Brian and the guitar. You’ve never seen anyone play the instrument with such dexterity. If someone told you he came out of the womb playing guitar solos, you would be tempted to believe them. When this impromptu concert ends, you find yourself wishing it could have gone on forever.

Freddie bows and the people in the crowd start to talk among themselves again. You’re a little nervous to meet the others, but you walk over to Brian. He notices you.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asks you.

“Yes!” you reply enthusiastically. “You were great!”

“Why, thank you, darling!” Freddie replies. When you said what you said, you were talking mostly about Brian, but you think it might be a good thing that Freddie thinks you’re not only talking about Brian. And he _is_ a great singer.

“It’s even better with our electric instruments and a full drum kit,” Roger adds. “And with Deacy’s bass!” Roger pulls a man with long, wavy brown hair close to him and pats him on the back.

“John Deacon,” the man says. “Nice to meet you.” You shake his hand.

“Too bad there was no acoustic bass for you to play,” you say to him.

“It’s all right, really,” John says. “I don’t mind being out of the centre of attention once in a while.”

You nod, knowing what he means. You aren’t famous like him, but you don’t always like attention from others. Not crowds, anyway. Talking to the Queen members like this is all right for you, though. They’re nice.

They tell you stories about how they all met each other and stories from their concerts and recording their first album.

“It sounds like fun,” you say.

“It is,” Brian says. “Never boring. Though, it is a bit of a distraction from completing a PhD.”

“Oh!” you exclaim. “You’re a Doctor?”

Brian chuckles. “No. I’ve done a lot of the work for a doctorate in astrophysics, but the dissertation isn’t finished. I haven’t had much time to work on it since we started recording and touring. But maybe one day.”

“That would be amazing!” you say. “You must be the smartest rock musician in the world!”

You mean for only Brian to hear it, but you say it louder than you meant and the others year you.

“You’re right!” Freddie says. “Though I think Roger might disagree. He was studying to be a dentist before we got the band going.”

“ _Biology_ , Fred!” Roger interjects. “I’d already given up the dentistry bit.”

“He’s _practically_ a dentist,” Brian says, joining in.

“Am not!” Roger retorts, but he’s laughing as he says it.

“As you can see,” John says. “They’re all children.”

“Says the youngest member of the band!” Freddie teases.

“Just because I’m the youngest doesn’t mean I’m the least mature,” John jabs back.

These guys truly are full of surprises and you love every minute of it. You wish this night could go on forever, but you can tell that the house is emptying and soon you’ll have to go home.

“Lynne,” you eventually hear your friend call out to you, as you have been dreading since you met up with Queen. “It’s time to go.”

“Oh, all right,” you say sadly. You turn to the guys one last time. “See you around.”

“Count on it,” Brian says.

As you ride home, you hope that you can make that a reality.

THE END


	25. Chapter 25

When this new person joins in, you realize he must be the lead vocalist of the band. More people gather around the band to listen, and you realize they’re probably all wondering what your relationship with Brian is. He’s a rock musician, so you know what kinds of rumours you’ll cause. You don’t want to be the subject of something like that. You start to feel suffocated and search for somewhere to hide as the band starts playing an upbeat song. You think you might have heard it before, but you don’t turn around.

You hide around the corner in the hall and listen from afar. You feel safer here.

When the band stops playing, you peek around the corner and see Brian looking for you, but you’re too embarrassed to go back.

You find an empty bedroom and sit in there until the house is quiet. When you emerge, your friend is looking for you. You leave the party feeling kind of sad.

THE END


	26. Chapter 26

“Sure,” you say. “That sounds like fun. I just have to warn you, though, I’m not very good.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Roger says. “Wait here, I’ll get Fred.”

Roger goes into the kitchen.

“Hey, Freddie, I found a pool table downstairs. Do you want to play?”

“Who’s playing?” you hear Freddie ask.

“Me,” he says. “And this girl – Lynne – I just met.”

“Yes, I know her,” Freddie says. “She was in here a few minutes ago getting a drink. Sounds like fun, let’s go.”

The two of them reappear and you go down the basement stairs with them. The lights are off when you get there, but you find the light switch, revealing a big rec room with a pool table in pristine condition.

You and the boys select your cues and decide who goes first, which ends up being Freddie.

“So Lynne said she’s never heard of us,” Roger says casually to Freddie as he sets up for his turn.

“Well, that’s hardly a crime, Roger,” Freddie says. “I dare say she’s not the only one.”

“It is if I’m here,” you say. “But it was through a friend.”

“Isn’t that lovely. What are friends for?” Freddie says, patting Roger right as he’s about to shoot.

“Distraction, apparently,” Roger teases back, resetting his aim.

Next it’s your turn, but your ball misses the pocket.

“Maybe next time,” you say. “I might not have heard of the band, but I might still have heard some of your songs. Do you have any singles?”

“We have one called ‘Keep Yourself Alive,’” says Roger. “Do you know it?”

You think for a moment, trying to match the words with a melody you may have heard on the radio or playing on the turntable at your friend’s house.

“ _Keep yourself alive  
Keep your self alive,_” you sing. You hum the melody that comes after, since you don’t remember the words.

“Yes, that’s it,” Freddie says.

“I guess I’m not as clueless as I thought,” you say.

You keep playing. Partway through the game you’re left with a difficult shot to make. As you take your time to think about your approach, Freddie goes upstairs to get more drinks for the three of you. Roger watches you think it through. You haven’t been doing as well as the guys, but this shot could help to even up the score.

You’re lining yourself up when Freddie starts coming back down the stairs. You see Roger in your peripheral vision raise his hand so that Freddie doesn’t distract you. Freddie’s footsteps stop.

You take a breath and shoot. The cue ball hits the others just as you wanted them and the two striped balls you were aiming for plunk satisfyingly into the pockets.

You hear Freddie cheering from his spot on the stairs.

“Yes!” Roger exclaims, patting you on the back enthusiastically.

“Great shot, Lynne!” Freddie says, as he arrives at the bottom of the stairs.

“Cheers,” you say and you clink your beer bottles together in celebration.

“Your lead is closing, Fred,” Roger says. “Lynne’s giving you a run for your money.”

“We’ll see about that,” Freddie says. It’s a challenge, but there is no malice behind it. Freddie lines up for his next shot, but he misses.

“I hope you’re not going to let me win after all this,” you say teasingly.

“Not a chance,” Freddie says, and you believe him. It’s supported by the fact that he struggles to maintain his lead in the next turns and you come out victorious, to your surprise.

“Rematch?” Roger asks you.

“Sure,” you say, and Freddie is on board for another round. This time he does win.

“My work here is done,” he says, putting his cue back before going back upstairs to join the party. You hear dance music when he opens the door at the top of the stairs.

“Do you want to keep playing?” you ask Roger, who you noticed didn’t follow Freddie up and is still holding his cue.

“The night is still young,” he replies and begins to set up the balls for another game.

One more game turns into two and you don’t notice the time passing. You ask Roger about the band and he shares anecdotes about their times together – concerts that went badly, their first time recording an album. It all sounds like so much fun and you know you will be checking out their records at the music store the next day.

When you finish your second game since Freddie left, you put the cues away and just sit and talk, not thinking about the fact that you are still in a basement with a party going on above you.

You are brought back to reality when you hear someone coming down the stairs. It’s your friend who brought you here, who you haven’t thought of much since you got to the party.

“I was looking all over for you, Lynne!” she says. “You know, you and I are practically the only ones left here besides the hosts?”

“I had no idea it was so late,” you say.

“You mean early,” Roger chimes in, showing you his watch and the early morning hour indicated on the face.

“Yes, exactly,” your friend says. “It’s time we should leave.”

“Oh, all right,” you say, a little sad you have to go.

Roger comes up the stairs with you and walks you to the front door.

“I guess this is it,” you say as you turn to him. “See you around, Roger.”

You know this will not be the last time you see him.

THE END.


	27. Chapter 27

It is a kind offer, but you hardly know Roger or Freddie, and you can’t play pool very well.

“No thanks,” you say.

“You sure?” Roger asks, one hand starting to push the kitchen door open.

“Yes,” you say.

“Okay,” Roger says, looking a little surprised. He disappears behind the kitchen door. You can hear him talking to Freddie on the other side of it.

“Hey, Fred, I found a pool table downstairs, do you want to play?”

“Who’s playing?” you hear Freddie ask.

“Just you and me,” Roger replies. “I asked someone else, but she wasn’t interested.”

“All right,” Freddie says. “Let’s go. We can ask if anyone else wants to play on the way down there.”

You walk away from the kitchen so that the two of them don’t see you loitering around when they come out, lest they find out you were eavesdropping. You finish your drink and watch other party guests dancing and talking. A few people say hello, but nothing clicks between you and they eventually move on.

When your friend finds you and says it’s time to go, you have no objections.

THE END **.**


	28. Chapter 28

You haven’t eaten much since you got here, so a snack sounds good.

“Okay, let’s go,” you say. The two of you get up off the couch and you follow John to the kitchen. As soon as he goes inside, he starts looking through cupboards, clearly with something specific on his mind. He notices you watching him and looks up for a moment to speak to you.

“Check to see what kind of cheese they’ve got in the fridge,” he says, then continues his search.

You open the fridge and look inside the cheese drawer. You find a block of orange cheddar.

“Orange cheddar,” you say, reading the label on the package. “Old.”

“Perfect,” John replies, pulling a loaf of bread out of the larder. He separates two slices of bread from the loaf and puts them in the toaster.

“I’ll see if they’ve got a cheese slicer,” you say, looking for cooking utensils. They don’t have what you are looking for, so you just take out a knife that you think seems suitable for slicing the cheese. When you bring it over, John has already started unwrapping the block of cheddar.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” you ask. “We’re guests here.”

“Maybe not,” John says. “But there’s nobody saying we can’t. Nobody said we couldn’t come in here.”

“True,” you say. You’re not sure that’s how it works, but you shrug it off. You figure there are probably worse things going on elsewhere in the house than the two of you helping yourself to a snack. “Thin slices or thick?”

“Whatever you like,” John replies. You make the slices fairly thin, though not as thin as you would get if you had the proper tool.

The toaster pops and John puts the slices side by side on a plate and arranges the cheese on the slices of toast, covering the entire surface of the face-up side of each.

You watch the cheese melt from the heat of the toast.

“And now we dig in,” John says, picking up his slice. “Bon appétit.”

You pick up yours and take a bite.

“Mmm,” you say. You’re surprised by how good it is, considering the simplicity of it and the scraped-together ingredients.

“Good, isn’t it?” John says rhetorically. “I love a good cheese. Luckily they had some.”

You keep eating, careful not to let the melted cheese drip on your clothes. John comes close once, but you warn him and he notices it in time.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin that nice silk shirt of yours,” you say.

“You’ve got crumbs on _your_ shirt,” he says when you finish. He starts to brush them off of you, then pulls back as if he crossed a boundary he shouldn’t have.

“It’s okay,” you say, continuing to brush them off yourself. “Thank you.”

When you’ve both made sure you have no crumbs left on you, John starts rummaging around the cupboards again.

“Now what are you looking for?” you ask him.

“Tea,” he replies. “I’d like to wash down our snack with some tea.”

You take two mugs out of the cupboard and help him find the tea and put on the kettle.

“So, do you make a habit of raiding people’s kitchens?” you ask him while you wait for your tea to cool off enough to drink.

“Only the kitchens of friends and acquaintances,” he says. “And select party hosts.”

You laugh, even if it’s not necessarily the best joke.

“You’ve been a nice host, yourself,” you say. “You’ve offered me drinks, made me a snack…are you sure this isn’t your house?”

“Absolutely not,” John says. “But maybe one day I’ll have a house like this. I’m happy with a smaller place, though, as long as it’s a comfortable home.”

“Me, too,” you agree. “It’s cozier. And there’s less cleaning.”

“I think the others in the band hope for big, lavish houses when we get more famous – if that happens,” John says contemplatively. “But not me.”

“I like that,” you say. “I think I’d be the same. I don’t think I’ll ever be a famous artist, or anybody famous, really. But if I was, I don’t think I could ever give up a normal home. Big fancy houses are fun to visit, but I don’t think I’d want to live in one. I don’t think I would feel at home.”

John nods in agreement. Your tea is finally at just the right temperature, so you take a sip. It strikes you that others might find it odd that you met a guy in a band with a hit single lots of people know, and all you did was eat toast and drink tea. But you didn’t know who John was before you came here and you keep forgetting he’s not just anyone. Queen might not be the biggest band in the world yet, but they’re not nobodies.

“Do you want Queen to be famous?” you ask suddenly, though you hope it isn’t an inappropriate question that will take John out of the moment.

“That’s not so easy to answer,” he replies. “I didn’t know it would take off like it has, you know. I was happy just having music as a hobby. But now that things are the way they are, I can’t say I don’t like any of it. I like playing with Freddie, Roger, and Brian. I like working on songs in the studio. If things get bigger we’ll get to play better venues. If that happens, I’ll look forward to it. But I don’t know if I want to be famous, be someone who can’t walk down the street without scores of people recognizing them. I don’t want to run away from screaming girls, like The Beatles do.”

“That would be frightening,” you say, remembering pictures in magazines of crowds of fans. “But at least if you get that famous you’ll have bodyguards to protect you from anyone with nefarious intentions.”

“Yes,” John says, “but that’s not exactly normal, is it?”

“Maybe normal is overrated.”

“Hmm…that’s an interesting idea. Our singer, Freddie, he’s definitely better than your average singer. It’s why we’re so glad to have him. Maybe there’s some truth to what you’re saying.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you say. “For now, we’re just two people drinking tea.”

You sit mostly quietly as the two of you drink your tea, occasionally peppering in little things that come to mind. You ask John about his observations of the music industry so far and he asks you about things that have happened at your job at that silly shop. You have a few stories to tell, despite the boredom that you find in it on most days.

You finish your tea and put the mug down, but as you talk with John you lose track of how long it’s been empty. You barely notice that things seem to be quieting down outside the kitchen door.

“There you are, Lynne,” your friend suddenly says, pulling you out of your conversation with John. “We have to go.”

“Do we really?” you ask her, not wanting to leave yet.

“Afraid so,” she says. “Almost everyone has left by now, anyway.”

“Oh,” you say sadly, turning back to John. “I guess I have to go, now. She’s my ride.”

“It’s all right,” John says. “We’ll pick up where we left off next time.”

“Okay.”

You say goodbye to John and turn back to him, locking eyes, one last time before your friend leads you out of the kitchen and then out of the house. On the car ride home, you hope silently that John was right and you will get to see him again. You also hope that he will get his wish, that if he stays famous he’ll still be able to have the quiet home life that he wants.

THE END.


	29. Chapter 29

“No, thanks,” you say. “I think I’m going to go outside to get some air.”

“All right,” John says with a bit of a shrug before heading to the kitchen. With all the people crowded around to dance, you find it a bit stuffy inside the house. You find the door and go out to the back porch.

Two guys are already there, talking and laughing. One is tall with full, dark, curly hair. The other is a bit shorter than him and has long, blond hair and is wearing a colourful and stylish jacket.

“Oh, hello,” you say when they both notice you’re there. “Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“It’s all right,” the tall one says. “We were just shooting the breeze, really, not discussing anything important.”

“I haven’t seen you around before,” the blond one says. “Are you a new member of the crew or something?”

“You mean for the band? Queen? No.”

“A groupie, then?” the blond asks raising his eyebrows.

“ _Roger_ ,” the tall one says sharply, elbowing the blond one – Roger.

“No,” you say, feeling a little flushed. “My friend invited me along with her. She knows one of your roadies. I don’t remember his name, though. I did meet your bassist, John, inside earlier. He seems nice.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Roger says.

“And he’s a good musician,” the tall one says.

“So, you’re in the band, too, then?” you ask.

“Indeed,” he replies. “I’m Brian, I play guitar.”

“And I play the drums,” Roger says. Brian elbows him again when he doesn’t introduce himself. “I’m Roger,” he adds, though you are both aware that you know that by now.

“Being in the band, I thought you would be inside with everyone else, dancing maybe.”

“John’s the dancer,” Brian says.

“Yeah, him and Freddie,” Roger agrees. “Though it’s not unheard of for the rest of us, I guess.”

You try to imagine Brian’s tall figure on the dance floor, and find it’s a bit difficult to picture. Roger on the other hand, especially in this outfit, is easier to imagine dancing. John had been an enthusiastic dancer, and you wonder if he got the others to dance when they didn’t feel like it.

“Yes, I saw John dancing,” you say. “He has a very unique rhythm.”

“You’re right, there,” Roger says, before dancing in a way to imitate John. His movements are very similar to John’s, as if he’s seen him dance many times and has studied him. You and Brian both chuckle.

“That’s exactly how he looked,” you say between breaths.

“We shouldn’t make fun of him,” Brian says, though he’s still chuckling.

“You know he would do the same,” Roger says. “He’s got a mouth, that one, when he wants to.”

“Really?” you ask. John had seemed rather quiet and polite to you.

“He and Roger are always joking and teasing about something,” Brain explains. “They’re the two little boys of the group.”

“Last I checked we were all _men_ , Brian,” Roger retorted.

“Last I checked it was hard to tell for sure,” Brian volleyed back. It seems to you John isn’t the only one in the band adept at verbal sparring.

“What’s all the commotion about?” an unfamiliar voice interjects all of a sudden. The three of you turn to find John walking just behind another man with long dark hair and tan skin.

“Hi, Freddie,” Brian says.

“Brian’s just being mean to me,” Roger teases.

“Well-deserved I’m sure,” Freddie says before turning to you and giving you a big smile. “And who’s this?”

“I’m Lynne,” you say, extending your hand so that Freddie can shake it. “Pleased to meet you, Freddie.”

“Enchanté,” Freddie replies. “Since we’re all out here, why don’t we get some drinks and make ourselves comfortable?”

Everyone is in agreement. Freddie disappears into the house. You notice John is holding the snack he had alluded to wanting to make inside. You ask him what it is.

“Cheese on toast,” he replies. You don’t have time to respond before Freddie has returned with a bottle of beer for each of you. As the five of you drink together, they tell stories about their early gigs and you find out more about what they like to tease each other about. At one point Freddie even sings a few lines of a song he’s working on that you can’t imagine won’t be a hit. He then asks what you do and you explain about the shop. You think the things they sell are tacky, but Freddie is intrigued and vows to come visit it sometime very soon.

You don’t want to leave this group, but eventually your friend finds you and tells you it’s time to go. The boys beg you to stay, but you can’t. You tell them where you can be reached and then your friend whisks you off into the night. You feel blessed to have been invited into Queen’s group of friends, and while nothing is sure you have a very good feeling that you will get to see them again.

THE END.


End file.
